


bad words

by fourshoesfrank



Series: autistic marvel [2]
Category: The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Autism Speaks, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Character, Autistic Frank Castle, Gen, THE SUMMARY SOUNDS LIKE PORN BUT THERE IS NO PORN, TW Ableist Slurs, correct my spanish too bc i do Not trust myself with any language not even english, frank has a official diagnosis bc hes lucky like that, frank stays a construction worker for a lil while longer, i still hate A$ dont worry, theres a john wick reference lol look out, timelines a lil different, uhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 17:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15296664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourshoesfrank/pseuds/fourshoesfrank
Summary: Donny wants to thank Pete for saving his life.





	bad words

“Look, I just wanna thank you for, y’know, savin my life, and my grandma wants to meet you and say thank you in person. That’s all. I know you ain’t lookin for a pal and all that but listen, man, I’m all she’s got left and I almost died! Please, just talk to her for a few minutes, it’d mean everything to her. And me, it'd mean a whole lot to me too. And if you do, I promise I’ll never bother you again, man, ever. Deal?” 

Frank was both amused and annoyed by the kid’s mouth. He talked way too much. But talking too much was better than not being alive to yap off all day, so Frank supposed he could meet the grandma. Maybe he’d get a sandwich out of it. 

“Sure, kid.” 

“Great! I was thinkin, maybe after work today? I know you like to stay late but my grandma goes to bed at seven thirty so—“ 

“Today's fine.” 

“Yeah?” Donny looked like he was gonna blow his hardhat off his head from excitement at any minute. “Great!” 

“Chavez! Gimp! Get back to work,” someone shouted at them both, followed by a few under-breath comments about how “Ya just can’t expect anything good from a retard,” and “Fuckin derp, why’d we hire him.” Frank's hands clenched his hammer tightly, aching to brain the new head honcho with the lump of steel. 

It didn’t escape Donny’s notice that they’d used his real name but called Pete an insult, but he didn’t say anything. He was on thin ice already, having served some time in jail. Surprisingly, most of the other guys had clean(ish) slates. They were too careful to get caught, and none of them were dumb enough to take their ID along while committing a crime more serious than loitering. 

The rest of the day passed in a blur for Donny. He and Pete left the site together, ignoring the jeers the others shouted at their backs. 

He saw Pete clench his jaw at one comment from a burly ex-fireman named Cole. ”Watch out, Chavez, he gonna fuck the stupid into you!” is what Cole shouted, followed by a series of grunts that could be an imitation of sex or the noises autistic kids sometimes made. Pete muttered something to himself that Donny couldn’t pick out and kept walking. 

Donny waited until they were well out of earshot before he said anything. He also waited so Pete wouldn’t be too pissed to have a conversation. 

“They shouldn’t say that shit, man.” 

Pete didn’t look over at him, but he nodded. He didn’t say anything. This didn’t deter Donny in the slightest. 

“I know you ain’t a retard, ‘cause you talk to me. If you talked to the other guys, maybe they’d stop callin you that.” 

“Nah.” Donny waited for an explanation, but Pete didn’t add anything. Maybe he was a little dumb after all. Donny still liked him, though. 

“How come talking wouldn’t help?” 

“Couple months ago, one of em came in waving a form with my diagnosis on it. He showed it to everyone. Talking’s gonna make it worse for me, kid.” 

“Diagnosis? What you got diagnosed with?” 

“Autism. I had to tell em, since it was on the medical forms.” 

“No way, bro, you got autism? Not that that’s bad, you just don’t seem real stupid like a lot of em is. Y’know, banging their heads around and screeching and all that shit. I ain’t never seen you do that.” 

Oh god, that was the wrong thing to say. Pete looked away from him with clear anger in his eyes and his jaw set. Oh god now he was clenching his fists was Pete gonna hit him oh god— 

“I’m sorry!” 

Pete’s shoulder dropped back down from where it had risen up to help put more force behind his fist. He looked tired now, not mad. Instead of clenching his teeth in anger, his jaw hung slightly open in a way that made him look oh so weary. He started walking again. Donny hadn’t even been aware that they’d stopped. 

“Look, man, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry. I just never met a autistic person who seems so normal, that’s all.” 

The other man sighed. It sounded like the most tired sound in the universe to Donny. 

“Kid, you sound just like Autism Speaks.” 

“Is that good?” 

“Means you sound like you’re talking out an asshole the size of Jupiter, so no. Not good.” 

“Sorry,” Donny apologized for the umpteenth time. He’d never considered himself the professor on autism, but it turned out he probably wasn’t even eligible for the class. Honestly, that was sad, especially because the only one of his coworkers that liked him had autism. “Can you tell me how to get it right?” 

Pete barked a short, harsh laugh. “Allistics ain’t the ‘normal’, Donny. Only reason that shit gets spread around’s ‘cause they wanna erase autism off the planet. Real fun stuff.” He took a long pause, long enough for Donny to wonder if he was done, then added, “The head-banging shit’s called stimming. Makes us feel good. You wanna learn more, look it up on the internet. This the station you take, kid?” 

Donny almost walked right past the subway station he used to get home. He checked his watch. They had...five minutes? Six? Until the southbound C train arrived to take him home. Five minutes of awkwardness between them, since Donny couldn't keep his dumb mouth shut. Pete didn’t seem bothered by the silence that stretched out while they waited. Did autistic guys have superhuman patience, or something? Was that a thing? 

“That’s my train,” he said, breaking the silence. The station was unusually quiet that day. White collar day off, maybe? 

Pete followed him into the subway car and sat down beside the door. He looked a little scared, Donny thought. Why was he scared? Was that another autism thing? God, he really needed to look this stuff up. 

“What’s your stop?” 

Donny jerked out of his thoughts when Pete spoke. He took a moment to absorb the question, then replied, “This one, Mayfield. C’mon, man, let’s go.” The train was pulling to a halt as he said it, and by the time they were both standing by the door the train had stopped completely. 

The two of them stepped out into an older station, one that smelled like metal and rubber and piss. Pete gestured for Donny to lead the way to his house. 

“I ain’t got all day.” 

Was that a joke? Did Pete Castiglione make jokes? Holy shit, Donny was definitely gonna tell the guys about this. The rest of them all swore by the assumption that the man’s sense of humor was as dead as his brain seemed to be. Donny had often tried to tell them that no, Pete’s not as stupid as you guys think, but he was ignored or laughed at. 

_Why’d you hire him if he’s so dumb, then?_

___Dunno, kid, that shit happens above me. I do know that if yo broke ass wanna play retard kiss-ass, go ahead. I ain’t gonna stop ya. But when it’s time to talk to the big boys, you stop playin pretend, kay?__ _

___“It’s this way,” Donny told Pete, turning in the direction of his apartment building. It was a short walk, only two minutes. The walk was quiet, but this kind of quiet felt peaceful, not loaded with tension like the subway ride had been._ _ _

___Donny's abuela greeted them both with a warm smile when Donny knocked on the door to his apartment. Pete hung back for a bit before following him inside._ _ _

___"Abuela, este es Pete. Él salvó mi vida." Pete cracked a hesitant smile when she turned to look him over. It occurred to Donny that having the guy show up in work clothes might not have been the best idea. The two of them were probably getting plaster dust on the orange throw rug that his abuela had insisted on placing just inside the doorway, like a welcome mat._ _ _

___"Es un hípster," his abuela stated after a thorough examination._ _ _

___"Not really," Pete grumbled, unconsciously bringing a hand to his beard and rubbing the hairs between his thick fingers. Was that the stimming thing he'd mentioned earlier? Probably. "Beard keeps me warm." He held out his hand for a shake. "Your grandson gave me one of your sandwiches. They're wonderful."_ _ _

___She beamed. "I make them for eighty years, they are easy."_ _ _

___"Abuela, Pete's got somewhere to be, so could you say your thank yous pretty quick? Por favor?"_ _ _

___"Claro. Thank you so much for saving him, Señor..."_ _ _

___"Castiglione."_ _ _

___She grasped his hand with both of hers and looked him in the eye for the true 'thank you'. "Señor Castiglione, this boy is all I have left. You can never know how happy I am for you that you saved him. Thank you."_ _ _

___ _

___  
_ _ _

Frank lay in bed that night, replaying his meeting with Donny's grandma in his head. She was nice, he could see where the kid got it from. Frank doubted that the old lady would ever call him a retard, though. Donny seriously needed to work on that. 

He sighed. In the past few months, sleep had become the enemy. Nonstop nightmares about Afghanistan and Maria made him reluctant to close his eyes each night, but he knew that he had to sleep at least an hour or he'd be taking the express train to burnout within days. 

Maybe he should talk to Curtis. Maybe he should just suck it up and take a snooze. Maybe he should go back to the site and hammer down another wall, then come back and sleep. Yeah, he should do that... 

Frank drifted off to sleep in the middle of considering ways to keep himself from sleeping. He was drifting towards seeing Maria get shot again, seeing his kids get killed again, but he didn't know it yet. All he could do was sleep and wait.

**Author's Note:**

> leave me some feedback you forgetful hobgoblins


End file.
